


Blind Tiger

by ImogeneThreadgoode



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Band Fic, F/F, Prohibition, Speakeasies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImogeneThreadgoode/pseuds/ImogeneThreadgoode
Summary: Nicole plays the trumpet. Booze is illegal. Waverly is Waverly.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	1. Mise en Place

**Author's Note:**

> All of my knowledge re: Prohibition comes from the Ken Burns doc being on quietly in the background while I work. So, I don't know. Know that, I guess.

Nicole grunted, setting down the roughly 80% of the weight of the steamer trunk that she'd been forced to shoulder.

“Christ Jeremy, not much help here.” She puffed out a breath, stray strands that had dropped from her ponytail flying from her face.

“Sorry Nicole, sorry!” He set down his “half” of the trunk. “I’m maybe not the best partner for this job. More of a thinker than a doer, you know?”

“Mmmm.” Nicole turned and placed her hands on the windowsill and looked out onto Main Street, Purgatory. Her new home for God knew how long. 

She sighed. “So remind me, buddy, of why we ended up in this particular charming town?”

Before Jeremy could begin blathering, Nicole heard a box hit the floor and Dolls spoke up. “We got a gig. Not easy to come by right now, if you hadn’t noticed, and again, you’re welcome.” He rolled his sleeves up and straightened out his vest.

Nicole turned and took in her bandmate. “Right. What I’m asking, I guess, is how and why we got this particular gig.”

Dolls wiped his brow and looked at Nicole with a tired expression. “We’ve discussed this. Jeremy and I met with the owners, they’re paying us extremely fairly, and we have a place to live.”

Jeremy cut in. “And after the…um…incident in the Big City, we figured anywhere was better than where we were. And the owners, while this isn’t precisely my area of expertise, are smokin’” He pointed finger guns at Nicole.

Nicole quirked an eyebrow and her eyes darted between Jeremy and Dolls. They stared back, Dolls unexpressive and Jeremy nearly vibrating with excitement. Nothing new there.

“Damn rhythm section,” Nicole muttered to herself as she popped open the steamer trunk and began removing clothing. 

“Woop! Rhythm section!” Jeremy raised a hand to Dolls for a high five. Dolls managed to both disregard his request and look stern about it, before heading back downstairs to grab more boxes.

*****

A couple of hours later, they were as moved in as they could hope to be. Nicole took a drag off her cigarette and looked around the small main room. The band’s equipment took up most of the space, but the two bedrooms the place came with made for more room than the group was accustomed to. Nicole briefly wondered about how much charm Dolls must have turned on with these owners to land this. She assumed Jeremy couldn’t have had too much to do with it. Smart and more than serviceable with a bass, a wheeler and dealer Jeremy was not.

“Okay!” Rosita collapsed into a chair around the small wooden table that served as their furniture. She lit up her own cigarette and turned to look at Dolls. “Lay it on me. What’s the plan here? We hightailed it out of the City so fast, I’m sorely lacking on details regarding our current situation.” She took a long drag and grinned.

Dolls sighed and put his hands on his hips, looking around at the ragtag group. “Okay, everyone sidle up and we’ll talk about the plans.” Doc sat in one of the chairs next to Rosita, Kate settling into his lap. Jeremy launched himself into the remaining chair so enthusiastically it almost fell over. Nicole settled further against the wall and waited.

“As I mentioned to a couple of you on while unpacking, I met a woman while we were staying in the City.” He paused and tensed his jaw at Doc’s wolf whistle. “I met her innocently, at the damn drugstore. Anyway, we got to chatting, and when she found out we had a band who was more than willing to play in certain..types..of establishments, she gave me her card. She lives here, in Purgatory.”

“Yeah!” Jeremy cut in, and five sets of eyes rolled simultaneously. “So when all that crazy stuff went down at Club 22, Dolls and I rode ahead to come find her. Her name is Mercedes and she is sassy and wonderful.” His eyes got a little dreamy and after a long pause Nicole coughed. He snapped out of it. “Right. Anyway, we looked her up, she referred us to the proprietors of Shorty’s, and we sent word back to you guys.” He spread his arms. “And here we are!”

Everyone’s heads turned in unison back to Dolls, both to continue and to tacitly confirm this story, which he did with a curt nod of his head. “Thank you, Jeremy.” Jeremy beamed. Dolls continued, “The owners are looking for a house band, and they’re willing to pay us enough to keep us fed, and more importantly, gave us this apartment above the place.”

Nicole looked around the apartment. Now that their things were moved in, it felt cozy. Head and shoulders above the basement flat they’d been squatting in in the City. A moderately sized living room with a counter for a hot plate, two bedrooms, and a small washroom. She could deal with it.

A little more chatting in the band meeting revealed that Shorty’s was the restaurant they lived above, owned by two women and their aunt and uncle. (Rosita: “Two broads own this joint? Niiiiiiice.” Rosita had encountered more than enough male club owners who played their fair share of grab-ass.) For those in the know, a door in the back led directly to the back staircase. One could take that staircase upstairs, to the apartment the band currently occupied…or one could take that staircase down, to the basement, where the more illicit activities took place. And where, starting in a matter of days, Nicole and her bandmates would be providing the entertainment. (Nicole: “If the Restaurant is called Shorty’s, what do they call their basement business?” Dolls leveled his gaze. “Shorty’s Two.” Nicole choked on her smoke.)

Eventually, wordlessly, Doc and Kate got up. Doc settled himself at the worn out piano they’d crammed into the corner, and Kate adjusted the height of her microphone. Everyone else stared. Kate raised an eyebrow.

“Well? Practice makes perfect, guys and gals. Last time I checked, we’ve got a show tomorrow night.”

Rosita let out a woop and leaned over, popping open her clarinet case. Jeremy fluttered over to the stand up bass propped in the other corner, and even Dolls cracked a smile as he squeezed his way behind his modest drum kit. Nicole pushed off the wall with a chuckle and grabbed her trumpet from the table.

“Alright, crew,” Nicole licked her lips and fingered the keys of the trumpet. “Prohibition Blues?”

Five grins answered her, and Dolls counted them down.

*****

“Well,” Rosita began, crushing her cigarette out in the ashtray, “I, for one, am exhausted from today’s move, and suppose it’s time to crash.”

The group murmured their agreement and all stood, stretching and groaning. Nicole pushed off from the wall and headed towards a bedroom with Dolls, Jeremy and Rosita in tow. 

“You know,” Nicole groused, “If I’d known that dating a bandmate would get me a private bedroom, maybe I would have considered it.” She cast a scowl over her shoulder at Doc and Kate, who laughed before turning for their room.

“Ohhhh darlin’,” Rosita snickered. “The only one in this entire band who is even remotely your type is me, and unfortunately for you, I absolutely, positively, under no circumstances would ever consider a redhead.”

Nicole, for perhaps the first time that day, erupted into a laugh. “We do it better, Rosita. Your loss.” She turned up the bedding on her cot in the far corner of the room and collapsed into it, the exhaustion from the day’s activities finally settling in.  
Rosita laughed as well and settled into her cot, across from Nicole’s. 

Nicole stared at the ceiling and exhaled a long breath. She finally had a moment to process her thoughts. Thought one: this apartment wasn’t so bad, and they were certainly lucky to have avoided the raid at Club 22, close as it had been. Thought two: It was kinda cool that this particular establishment was run by two women. She decided she was moderately excited to meet them and get back to playing music. Hell, maybe she’d even have a (risky, illegal, but delightful) drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUT WHO ARE THE OWNERS


	2. What's the Password

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gearing up.

A knock on the apartment door woke Nicole with a start. She sat up in bed, tense and afraid, and frantically took in her surroundings. Right, the new apartment. Not the City. Purgatory. She felt her muscles relax.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Nicole grumbled and stood, throwing her vest on over her undershirt, and stumbled to the living room. Rubbing her eyes, she vaguely registered Dolls behind her as she unlocked and opened the door.

A woman stood on the other side, holding a cardboard box. The woman was older...50s perhaps?...grey hair and a stern look on her lined face. What were the lines from, Nicole wondered? Smiling? Worrying? Perhaps a combination of the two. Nicole shook off some more of her sleep and cleared her throat.

"I...um. Hello."

"Good morning." The woman pushed between Nicole and Dolls and approached the small table in their living room. "I'm Gus, I run the restaurant with my husband." She set the box on the table and turned back to Nicole and Dolls. "Which ones are you?"

Dolls took a small step forward and extended his hand. "I'm Xavier Dolls. This is Nicole." He motioned with his head as Gus took his hand. "It's a sincere pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Nicole said a small prayer of thanks for Dolls being such a charmer. That was so much better than _i um hello_.

After two quick shakes, Gus nodded curtly and turned back to the box. "You seem polite enough. Welcome to Purgatory, and welcome to Shorty's." She began removing items from the box, setting them on the table. Nicole's senses perked at the smell of coffee. "I've brought you coffee, some bread and butter, and some hardboiled eggs. Should be enough for the...six of ya, is it?" She turned to Dolls. He nodded, and she turned back to her activities. "After today you'll have to come down to the restaurant to get ya food, I ain't your room service, but I figured for the first mornin' I might be a tad hospitable." She turned once more, dusting her hands off.

"We can't thank you enough, ma'am. You really shouldn't have. We'll be sure to get down to the restaurant every morning from here out." Dolls had set his shoulders and clasped his hands in front of him. Nicole glanced at him and did a slight double take. _Had he shaved already this morning?_

"I know you met with my nieces, and all that..." She waved her hand vaguely in the air. "...is their thing. If they think you'll work out, I s'pose I do too. Now!" She picked up the box and made her way back to the front door. "I have to get back to my flapjacks, God knows Curtis don't know how to make 'em, but I'd recommend you get the rest of your posse up before that coffee gets cold." Gus appraised Dolls and Nicole once more, seemed satisfied, and with a small nod and a grunt of goodbye, she stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Nicole stared at the closed door before the room slowly filled with the tell-tale sounds of rousing musicians. That is, yawning and shuffling. Rousing musicians sound a lot like just about rousing-anything-else.

"They brought us breakfast?" Rosita asked, securing her blanket around her shoulders. All six bandmates stood round the table, staring at the food and drink. Someone's stomach growled. In the distance, a dog barked.

Six musicians wolfed down bread and eggs.

*****

A short time later, Nicole was perched on the windowsill facing Main Street. She'd cracked the window a bit (the apartment was getting a bit smokey and, if she were honest with herself, a bit rank as not every member of the band had chanced an ice cold bath yet, even after yesterday's long train ride) and was nursing her second cup of mediocre but strong coffee. Main Street was surprisingly busy given the size of Purgatory. People rode up and down the street on bikes and horses, dodging the occasional automobile, and Nicole could hear the whistle of a train in the distance from the train station down the way.

Rosita and Kate were sat at the nearby table, quietly working on a new arrangement, and Nicole let her mind wander in spite of herself. The events in the days leading up to their abrupt departure from the City swirled around her head and she bit back the guilt. She looked down into her now empty coffee cup and set it on the sill with a sigh.

"Okay team!" Dolls entered the room and clapped his hands. "I need some strong backs to carry our equipment down to Shorty's Two." Nicole snorted. Dolls ignored her. "If you haven't gotten yourself cleaned up, I'd suggest you do so. We should all look and preferably smell our best for our intro tonight." Groans.

Doc stepped out of the washroom, running a small towel through his surprisingly lush hair. "Dolls, I shall accompany you and assist with carrying equipment. I would recommend that our two lovely songstresses continue their work unimpeded." He smiled at Rosita and Kate, who both pretended to swoon.

"Could use one more." Dolls' eyes scanned the room. Nicole grunted.

"Guess that means me."

Jeremy stood up from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "I mean, I could..."

"GUESS THAT MEANS ME." She pushed off the windowsill but flashed Jeremy a grin. She hoisted her trumpet case, Rosita's clarinet case, and a mic stand, and watched Doc and Dolls heft up parts of the drum set. Dolls led the way and the trio stepped out into the hallway.

"So Dolls," Nicole let out a huff when the mic stand hit the low stairway ceiling. "Are we going to meet the owners? I feel weird that only you and strangely Jeremy know who runs this place."

"They should be down here," Dolls replied, his voice a bit strained. "It's almost noon, I'd imagine they're stocking up. When I came down to thank Gus earlier she said we could start setting up any time."

The three navigated their way down the narrow staircase past the back door to the restaurant. Nicole could hear general noise and could smell what she guessed might be chicken soup wafting through the cracks. Directly across from the door to the restaurant was another one, large and deadbolted, that led outside to a back alley.

The three descended further until they came to another wooden door at the end of a short hallway. There was no signage, for obvious reasons, but Nicole could only assume they'd reached the entry to Shorty's Two, which was still, she thought, such a terrible name. Dolls tried the handle, and finding it locked, gave three soft knocks.

Seconds later a small window at eye level, that Nicole had not noticed, slid open. Nicole, Dolls and Doc found themselves staring into icy blue eyes that looked simultaneously amused and annoyed.

"What's the password?" Asked Old Blue Eyes.

"Uhhhh..." Dolls stammered and glanced at his bandmates. "We didn't..."

"Can't get in without the password."

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry, but we...we're the band, we met? And..."

"Psssshhhhhh I am JOSHING you!" The window slid shut and the door swung open. Blue eyes had a body, and thick dark hair. She was wearing brown striped trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. "Good to see you again, Dolls." She raised an eyebrow and eyed him appreciatively before casting her stare to Nicole and Doc. "You brought friends."

"John Henry, ma'am, although you may call me Doc." Doc set the snare drum down gently and extended his hand.

"That is a ridiculous nickname and so I think I shall." Blue eyes sparkled. This girl found herself very amusing. "Wynonna Earp. Co-owner of Shorty's Two." She shook his hand and her eyes finally landed on Nicole, who was trying not to snort. "And who are you?"

"Oh, uh." Nicole set down the mic stand and ran her hand through her hair before extending it. "Nicole Haught. Trumpet." She winced. _Why. Why did she say trumpet._

"Mmmmm." Wynonna took her hand and gave it a slow shake, her eyes took Nicole in. "Welcome to you too, Red. I have a feeling my sister is going to like you."

Nicole frowned slightly and pulled her hand back once it was released. "What? I mean, that's great, but why..."

"Unfortunately, you'll all have to wait until tonight to meet her, she's off running an errand." Wynnona interrupted. "Business related. I've been told I'm a little, oh, let's see..." Wynonna started counting off her fingers, "aggressive, disagreeable, frightening..." she grinned. "So Waverly typically deals with our distributors and partners. She sends her apologies for missing this early introduction." With that, she turned and walked into the bar, leaving Nicole, Dolls and Doc utterly rattled and slightly charmed.

After a beat, they picked up their discarded instruments, and followed Wynonna Earp into Shorty's Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue eyes makes an appearance! Sadly the other one, with eyes of an indeterminate color, has not yet. Sorry about that.


	3. Scandalously Low Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They play some music!

Nicole had seen her fair share of speakeasies. Since the powers that be decided booze was the devil several years before, Nicole had played her trumpet in bars and lounges all over the region, first with just Dolls and Doc, picking up journeymen musicians along the way until they'd assembled the group of six she found herself with now. Some bars were tiny, some astoundingly large and frankly obvious despite the laws. Shorty’s Two may have been the most _rustic_ she'd stepped foot in.

It was, truly, a basement. With a terrible name.

As she followed Dolls through the space, her eyes took everything in. A long bar ran across the left side of the room, backed by shelves of unmarked spirits. Two and four person tables were scattered throughout the room, and in the back right corner was a small slightly raised stage. The space in front of it was free of tables, presumably, Nicole thought, for dancing.

The ceilings were low and the ambiance dark and...drippy. She winced.

"You guys see the stage? You can set everything up back there. No one comes in here but me and Waverly until we open, so it will be fine." Wynonna had made her way behind the bar and was eyeing the bottles. She settled on one that was an off-putting light brown color and pulled it down. "We open at nine, and run until everyone gets the hell out of here or it hits two a.m., whichever comes first." She turned to face them and set the bottle and four small glasses on the bar. "You'll be expected to play the whole time, save for two half hour breaks." She raised an eyebrow. "That work?"

"Absolutely." Dolls set his equipment on the stage and Nicole and Doc followed suit. "Four hours of music is not a problem for our group."

"Speaking of that," Wynonna waved them over to join her as she poured the vile looking liquid into the supplied glasses. "What is your merry band of music makers called?"

"The Calamities, ma'am, at your service." Doc tipped his hat to her.

"That...is a name." Wynonna nodded and held up one of the glasses. "Well, a drink, to the Calamities' first day of employment at Shorty's Two."

The three musicians each picked up a glass. Nicole gave hers a suspicious sniff and after locking eyes with Dolls, slammed it back with the rest of them.

"Arrrrggghhhh good GOD that tastes like...I don't know, lamp oil, maybe?" Nicole coughed and wished she had a brush with which to scrub her tongue.

"It does, doesn't it?" Wynonna responded. Proudly.

*****

Hours later, the rest of the band had made their way down to Shorty's Two and had the privilege of meeting Wynonna. In this time, Wynonna had consumed several more shots of the Lamp Oil, but somehow seemed more sober than she had to begin with. Everyone had just about finished setting up and a glance at her pocket watch assured Nicole that they had an hour or so before the bar would open. She heard the heavy entrance door slam shut and glanced up.

A woman entered and barely gave the band a glance before she made her way to the bar and began talking to Wynonna. The woman was wearing a fitted dress with long sleeves and a scandalously low cut. Her long hair was curled and cascaded over one shoulder.

"Ahh, Miss Waverly is here." Dolls had appeared at Nicole's side. He looked at her, adopted a confused face, and leaned in towards her. 'What...is..." He screwed up his face and leaned back. "Are you just, emitting a constant high-pitched noise right now? How are you even doing that?"

"What??" Nicole squeaked. She cleared her throat. "I was doing no such thing."

"What's going on? Was Nicole doing that thing she does? That must mean..." Rosita sidled up and scanned the bar, eyes eventually falling on Waverly. "Mmmmm. Right. Got it. Yikes."

Nicole huffed and crossed her arms. "You're both full of it."

Rosita laughed and batted at the brim of Nicole's newsboy. "Good luck, Haught."

Nicole grunted and turned her gaze back to the sisters. Waverly was leaning against the edge of the bar, her arms crossed, visibly irritated. Wynonna had her hands up in a "who me?" position, and Waverly responded by pointing meaningfully to the now half empty bottle of Lamp Oil. Nicole smiled. 

More words were exchanged between the two, and eventually Wynonna flashed a dopey grin and Waverly seemed to deflate. She shook her head and walked through a door behind the bar, while Wynonna went back to cleaning glasses.

Nicole fought the urge to wander over that way, and was saved from herself by Doc, who announced to the band that it was time to tune up. The place may have been a bit of a dump, but that was no excuse to play out of tune.

*****

"Hello Shorty's Two!" Nicole snorted, and Kate continued, "We're the Calamities, and we're so happy to be here with all of you tonight. We hope you enjoy what you hear." An enthused cheer went up among the crowd in the now-bustling bar. As Wynonna had said, at 9pm a doorman appeared seemingly out of nowhere and began admitting patrons through the heavy door. Only a few minutes later, the room was quite crowded and the sisters were skillfully slinging drinks to thirsty customers. Nicole felt the familiar surge of adrenaline as she heard Dolls' drumsticks count a beat, and the band hit the first notes of "Sweet Georgia Brown".

One song bled into another, and Nicole found that she was enjoying herself immensely. The crowd was rowdy but not out of control; Waverly and Wynonna seemed to know every customer and deftly kept everyone entertained and satisfied. At some point Wynonna had set a drink on the stool next to Nicole with a wink, and as Rosita took a solo, Nicole took a sip and was pleasantly surprised to find a better-than-passable gin rickey. She turned to Doc and raised her glass with a grin. He laughed and tipped his head to her. Everyone was having a good time.

Nicole set her drink down and turned back to the crowd, counting down the bars in her head before she'd rejoin the band for the chorus. Her eyes found Waverly behind the bar of their own volition, and as she fingered the keys of her trumpet, she found herself staring. That dress was sincerely scandalous.

As if her thoughts had been broadcast through Kate's microphone, Waverly's eyes shot up and caught Nicole's. Waverly matched Nicole's gaze for a few beats, before she slowly raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "why, pray tell, are you staring a hole in my face, random red headed trumpet player I have never met?"

Perhaps it was the booze, or the high of the band being completely in sync, or the slight feeling of invincibility that came with escaping the mess in the City, but Nicole tilted the brim of her hat up and flashed Waverly her most winning smile. She knew what her dimples could do. As she'd hoped, she could track Waverly's eyes flicking across her face. Three, two, one... she raised the trumpet back to her lips and hit the same line of melody as Rosita and Doc, the music swelled and the crowd cheered. Before Nicole looked away, she caught a small smile on Waverly's lips.

That would do just fine for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DANG NICOLE BRANDISHING THOSE DIMPLES LIKE A WEAPON EVEN THOUGH YOU WERE BEING KIND OF A CREEP


End file.
